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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25645000">Fresh Blood</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26/pseuds/SheWalksInBeauty26'>SheWalksInBeauty26</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A/B/O, Arranged Marriage, Dark Ben, Dark Rey, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Glove Kink, Mafia AU, Murder, Sexual Tension, Violence, enemies that want to ... f word each other, first person POV, surprise, they’re bad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:07:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,126</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25645000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWalksInBeauty26/pseuds/SheWalksInBeauty26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows the suppressant industry is corrupt. Crime families battle for power over, none more powerful or contentious than the Solos and Palpatines.</p>
<p>Semi- dark, Romeo and Juliet vibes, enemies to lovers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>A Picture is worth 1000 Words - PL Summer Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fresh Blood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowlightsaber/gifts">yellowlightsaber</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>To yellowlightsaber, girl I am so sorry this took so long. I hope this is at least mildly amusing.</p>
<p>Everyone else, have at it.</p>
<p>Love, ceo of procrastinating.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I have a very early memory. Grandfather, a wide smile across his face, holding something behind his back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was my birthday, or close enough. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A present, he said. One I would love. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hand out, dear.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>My left  hand gripped the training staff that was my constant companion. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With the other, I extended a palm. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He drew a beautiful mahogany instrument from behind his back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A violin,” he offered at my confused expression. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So taken with the object, I felt my staff begin to slide from my hands. Noticing this, Grandfather reached  over to gently pry it out of my grasp. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I put up little resistance, eager to get my hands on the shiny new toy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gently, gently, little savage.” Grandfather teased. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I barely pay heed, my hands coasting across the smooth wood. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I pluck a string, mesmerized by the sound it produces. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You will make beautiful music, my dear.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>15 years later </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know Lando, we both know how this is going to end, so you may as well let me go. I really would prefer  not to deal with the melodrama.” I shout towards the privacy shield in the limousine. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Twisting my wrists in the rope fastenings, I attempt to catch sight of the dark streets outside the car window. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Not that I can’t guess where we’re going.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Imperial Base. Or as I like to call it. The Solo Lair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I know what, and who, will greet me. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unbidden, a vision of leather gloves and dark brown eyes fills my thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ugh. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, we take an abrupt left and the car comes to a halt in a dark alleyway that a teenage version of myself might call non descript. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now I know better. That innocence has gone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing, I briefly give up trying to wiggle out of my restraints and resign myself to my fate.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The door opens and a towering man leans inside. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Seniai nesimatėm.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I can’t help the slight quirk of my mouth when I reply, “Yes, I suppose it has been a while, hasn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Chewie’s tall form shakes with laughter, and I almost let myself join in. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then, when he begins to place both of his tree trunk arms around my body, I am brought sharply and immediately back to reality. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Chewie, we’ve been over this, I can walk!! I have two perfectly good legs…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“— which you happen to have used to escape with, on several </span>
  <em>
    <span>different </span>
  </em>
  <span>occasions if I remember correctly,” cuts in Lando, who is standing just outside the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Chewie </span>
  <em>
    <span>harrumphs</span>
  </em>
  <span> in agreement. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I groan as he throws me over his shoulder and begins descending the stairs to the basement *cough* </span>
  <em>
    <span>dungeon. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fitting, for the warden who lurks there. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As we (or rather, </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span>) walk, Lando’s phone begins ringing. He answers, and I know who it must be from the severe, rumbling intonations audible from the other line. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The shipment isn’t… yes I know … I know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly he turns to me. “Yes, she is. Not yet. Alright. Your funeral.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a sigh, he hangs up the phone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When we arrive at the heavy door, Lando opens it wide and bows dramatically. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My lady.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then, without warning, Chewie flips me over his massive shoulder into an armchair, all the blood rushing back to my head with dizzying speed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry about this, dear, you understand.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before I can begin to inquire about  his meaning, a blindfold is slipped across my eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll scream!” I warn, but I hear their receding footfalls as they depart, and even I know, from previous experience, this room is soundproof. For torture. Of various kinds. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Can’t be drawing any attention, after all. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Long minutes pass in silence. I pass the time by doing mathematics in my head— I’ve always been a dab hand. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I’m in charge of figures for grandfather— indispensable for our particular line of work. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I am drawn from my concentrated trance by the ominous echo of shoes across the concrete. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I know without the privilege of sight that they are expensive, leather— and likely, recently cleaned of blood. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I hear his shoes grow closer and closer. Until finally, they pause, directly behind the chair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Because my hands are still bound, I can do nothing when he begins running a gloved finger tip slowly  down my cheek, to my neck, to my collarbone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> Here, he rests the weight of one warm palm, the other goes to circle my opposite wrist, almost as if he doesn’t trust my bindings. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s right not to. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Previous experiences have made him wary, but never actually prevented his particular brand of manhandling. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The blindfold is new,” I offer, prompting him to take the bait in our ever present game of cat and mouse. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At first, he doesn’t answer, too busy moving his hand to curl around my hair, now loosening from its severe bun. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hesitates, and then fluidly removes the elastic from my head, letting my hair fall in waves to my shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tangling his gloved hand in my locks, he twists it until he can anchor my neck backwards. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stand.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not a request. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Reluctantly, and for the sake of my scalp, I rise from the chair, sure to maintain as much distance from his body as I can. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His insistent grip on my hair grows tighter, and he rests my neck against the soft, cool shoulder of his suit jacket. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>My body begins to flush, the familiar fire consuming me. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The flames caress my spine as his glove slides into the dip of my blouse and traces the swell of my breast. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I stifle a sound too embarrassing to name. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Almost as if he can feel my resistance, his mouth moves to the exposed length of my neck. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The inferno rages within me, pulling me deeper. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He bites down softly, the plush swell of his lips sliding along the column of my throat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>My breath hitches. I can’t help it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His affect on me is potent. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He and I, we are like two sides of the same coin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Powerful pawns in our family's dynasties. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Kylo Ren, the man I love to hate. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know what’s going to happen when you come off those suppressants, princess.” He murmurs against my skin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can taste it, taste you, already.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I toss my head frantically, panting against the violent urges warring in my brain. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll never— I— Grandfather..”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“— your grandfather can’t protect you forever.” He growls, inhaling. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he begins to loosen his grip on my body, he moves one hand to my mating gland, pressing down, his meaning clear. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I wince. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even with my military grade suppressants, a powerful alpha does not, </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot </span>
  </em>
  <span>leave me unaffected. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Especially one like him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He would be my undoing, this beautiful man who could play me like a violin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Leave a comment if you want!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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